Tense silence fell in the crypt.
The light of the torch wavered up and down the tall figure of the Maccabee as he stood transfixed in the attitude of command that had achieved nothing.

It seemed the final inclination beyond the perpendicular that precedes the fall.

The Christian started from his place and hurried toward the tense figure in the torch-light.

Laodice, unconscious of what she did, approached him with an agony of distress for him written in her face.

The white-haired apparition crept out a little way on his knees and putting aside his tangled locks gazed with burning eyes at the defeated man.
Laodice, in her anxiety, moved into the range of the Maccabee's vision.